The Shadow of Another
by Sly the Wren
Summary: A new generation of witches and wizards arrive at Hogwarts for magical training. Harry, Ron, and Hermione all have children attending, and they have a lot to live up to. This is a story about love, grief, and growing up; this is a story about choice and consequence. (Albus/Scorpius) (Slow-Drip Story / Changing POVs)
1. A Bit of Light Reading

**Chapter One : A Bit of Light Reading (Hermione Granger)**

* * *

The wind brought a sudden and strong rustle through the arms of the tree overhead and sent the leaves aflutter, but the sun didn't relent its glow. Beneath the Elm, it was still warm with the afternoon's promise of sunshine and blue skies. The grass was soft and lightly shaded here and there as the branches swayed back and forth. Birds were chattering and cars were humming off in the distance but she didn't hear them.

Knees bent and flat backed she sat, still if only for her breathing and the rhythm of the air around her, focused on the pages in front of her. " _The Sorrowful Plane: Effects of Grief and Turmoil on The Soul and Magic_ _"_ was filled with depressing anecdotes when it wasn't busy being incredibly long-winded and cold. It was a ponderous tome for many; light reading for Hermione Granger these days.

She sighed as she flipped another page, the book resting on her lap.

"… _and thus it is fair to say that while the effects of melancholy built up in an individual can (and have) produce devastating effects not only to one's body and mind but to their magic and, by extension, those near enough to be effected by their magic._ _From here it is only fair to further conclude that if an entire population of magical beings were living under an environment of extreme terror or sorrow the negative power yielded from their magic would be unbelievable._ _As you will find from the studies following, we propose the idea that the very land that this "taint" has been unleashed upon could become severely altered, and thus, all living things yielded from such soil and ground and air could be compromised in their making."_

Hermione was used to reading such studies; you don't become head of a magical creature's rights advocacy group without facing your fair share of harsh realities. You eventually become a little hard to it, if only as a way to cope with the never-ending sadness of it all.

That's why she tried to take pleasure in her day where she could; reading underneath the Elm tree on a beautiful fall morning, for example. Here, in the small field behind her garden, she felt as much at peace as she could: at one with the land around her.

 _I guess_ _I should be glad it doesn't have a taint then._ What feeling would she harness from this tree then? Could the light be enough to drive out that chill? _Better not to look there._

This mother-of-two had enough grief of her own to deal with today without taking on her usual load. In fact, she realized as she stuck a flattened rosebud she used as a bookmark into the binding and closed the tome, she had taken the day off work for this exact reason. She had no intention of picking this book up at all when she went to soak up the day's fortune underneath her tree, but she seemed to have misplaced her current novel, " _Love in the time of Dragonpox_ ", and thought that she might as well catch up on her work before her she had to finish prepping for her approaching seminar at the Ministry.

At least today she didn't have to deal with Persephone, the child-woman the ministry had assigned to replace her last secretary and whose constant obliviousness was more a hindrance to Hermione than a help. As if Seph's ineptitude at administrative tasks wasn't enough, she also seemed to lack the empathy Hermione felt like was needed to take on such a project. It wasn't her own fault, Hermione supposed; though Seph had a muggle father, she had grown up her whole life in a wizarding only village and never had the drive to travel outside of her hometown. She just wasn't worldly and that added to her adolescent demeanor. Hermione tried her hardest to be patient, however. After all, Hermione did bare some of the responsibility; Seph was nearing her one year anniversary with the department and Mrs. Granger hadn't been able to teach her much of anything.

 _Perhaps I didn't really try,_ she thought _. This is why I wouldn't have made a good teacher. Too much distraction from actual progress._ She felt a sudden gratitude for all of the mentors that had impacted her life and nurtured her. She was feeling nostalgic today, after all, but that fear of the future was never far either.

She heard a creaking sound and looked up. From her spot beneath the tree she could see straight to her garden that flourished behind the house. Though the wooden fence was high and the planks attached in a staggered way so that very little space could be made out between them, she could still see the vines that intertwined along the brick walls of her home and encroached on the space where the back wall met the gutter. From here she could almost make out that the back door had been left ajar.

A second later, the garden gate opened and a small figure emerged. Hugo, like his sister Rose, had favored Ron and Hermione equally. Fair skin, freckles, but with light brown hair; curly, like his mother's. Hugo was also small for his age. Though Molly had told her that most of her boys hadn't started growing taller until their teens, Hermione had a feeling that Hugo was always going to remain small. His very nature was small; his pale eyelashes were like wisps out-shown by the warm eyes underneath, his figure was slim and his feet narrow. He was her little one and always would be, in her mind.

She smiled as he drew near and he smiled back.

"Up at last, sleepy head?" Hermione joked. "I thought you might be up early today, eager to get the day started."

"Well, there's no one to play with, is there?" Hugo said, shrugging his shoulders but seemingly unperturbed all the same. He sat down next to his mother and rested his head on her shoulder.

"Rose will be back for the Holidays. And I'm sure she will have loads of stories and other things to share with you."

"That's forever away. And she will have new friends to share with then, won't she?"

"That's true, but you will have new friends and adventures too now that she is at school" - Hermione considered for a moment - "we could go see your cousin Lily today, if you would like." Hermione hadn't intended on visiting Molly today but Hugo and Lily had never really been as close as Rose and Albus had become and that would have to change soon as they would both be spending more time with their grandmother now that all the adults were back at work.

"I guess so. She always tells me which games to play though. And she _always_ wins."

Hermione had to laugh at that. Lily did have a fire in her, like her mother. "You'll win one day if you keep trying."

"I don't _like_ losing though. And she always picks something sporty so I don't stand a chance." He sounded exasperated. "Do they teach remedial Quidditch at Hogwarts? I probably need that."

Hermione smiled and ruffled Hugo's hair as she said, "Don't worry. They'll teach you everything you need to know. And if you need any extra help, your uncle can give you a pointer or two. You know, Harry wasn't much taller than you when he became the youngest seeker for Gryffindor in a century."

"Really?" Hugo said excitedly. "Then maybe I do stand a chance." He went back to resting his head on his mother's shoulder. "I can't wait to go to Hogwarts like Rose."

Start of term was yesterday, and the whole family had gone onto the platform to see off Rose and Albus for their first year. She hadn't paid much attention to Ginny's farewells; James was already a student at Hogwarts and so Hermione figured that saying goodbye to Albus had come easier to Ginny as she had the comfort of knowing that he was well looked after. Not as much the case with Rose.

Hermione had been frantic that morning trying to get everything in order. Of course, now, it was easy to look back and see that nothing had been out of order to begin with. Being who she was, and her children being who they were, they had more than enough time to prepare for Rose's first day over the summer. Though Rose wasn't quite as bookish as Hugo, she was always organized and reliable. She was packed two weeks before the start of term. She was unpacked and repacked, of course, three more times. The final version seemed to be approved of around four in the morning on September 1st.

Though Rose had inherited some of her mother's anxiety, she almost seemed to thrive in it where Hermione had sometimes drowned. It excited Rose, as if each time she crossed off something on her list she was a step closer to achieving her dreams. Hermione hoped that she kept that pride and sense of accomplishment throughout her schooling. It would be hard to not see her every day, feeling some small security in the fact that her own validation of her daughter would be enough to hold her confidence. Now, she was on her own.

 _And me? I still have Hugo, for now._ Though Hugo was missing his sister now, he was too abuzz with the thrill of seeing the platform, the train, and all of the hubbub with it to be too concerned with his sister's farewell that day. That was for the best, Hermione supposed. If anyone else had been emotional, she might not have been able to keep her composure. She didn't want to make Rose feel anything other than joy at the idea of boarding that train. She didn't want her to know how much she would miss her. So when the time came for Rose to take her leave and join her cousins, Hermione had simply hugged her daughter, fixed her jumper, and tried to commit to memory the exact shade of auburn those long waves had. _She's beautiful, and growing far too fast._

Hugo was snoring softly. Hermione ran fingers through his copper locks and rested her head on his as she mused.

Hermione let the tome she had been reading slide from her lap and onto the ground and glanced overhead past the branches and leaves and locked onto the open blue sky. _Let Rose find a mentor at Hogwarts. Let her be bright...and far wiser than I._


	2. Pumpkin Water

**Chapter Two : Pumpkin Water (Rose Weasley)**

* * *

"Anything off the trolley, dear?" The sudden appearance of the kindly looking woman bearing sweets and treats in the compartment door pulled Rose from her rummaging. Her annoyance at being interrupted melted, though, once she registered the sheer enormity of the collection before her. Bertie Bott's, Pasties, Drooble's, Cauldron Cakes; everything a child of eleven could hope for. And, was that an Iced Pumpkin Juice that she spied on the corner?

Rose tucked a heavy lock of auburn curl behind her ear, let her book bag drop lightly to the compartment floor, and smiled at the kindly woman.

"I'll take a Pumpkin Juice, please. Sweetened." Rose wasn't a stranger to coffee houses and pubs. Many a day she had spent drawing or reading in tranquil spots in London while her mother worked. She was used to making orders and making friends.

"Of course, dear. Is that all?" The woman set to work, all routine, opening a fresh bottle and pouring it over a cup filled with ice. She handed it deftly to Rose. "That will be 1 sickle."

Rose took the juice in one hand and unzipped her small, crossbody travel purse with the other. As she handed the woman the sickle she turned to Albus, "Want anything, Albie?"

Albus, who had been staring out the window while Rose was running through her checklist turned toward her at her request. He seemed even more preoccupied than she had been.

"I'm fine, thanks," he said, copping a sheepish grin towards the end. Rose thought the smile seemed disingenuous. Perhaps the kindly woman looked concerned as well for then Albus clarified, "Tummy ache."

"First year?" Asked the woman with understanding in her voice. "Don't worry, dear. I know it seems daunting right now but today will be all celebration and welcome. Believe it or not, it's actually the easy part."

Rose thought that didn't sound very promising at all, actually. But still, if everyone she met today was as sweet as this trolley worker was, it couldn't be all bad. Albus and Rose both nodded in thanks at the woman, and she wished them good luck as she rolled on to the next compartment.

When she was gone, Rose took a sip of her juice (how could it already taste watered down when she just got it? Wasn't it the same thing she purchased in London only poured over ice?) and situated it as securely as she could in her lap so she could get back to the task at hand.

She pulled her book bag toward her again and back tracked.

 _Yes, Yes. History, Transfig, Charms, Potions, Defense, Astronomy, and two for Herbology._ And, of course, her personal reading: a favorite from her youth about a group of extraordinary friends who happen to be the children of Gods. Everything was accounted for. _Of course it is, Weasley, where would it have wandered off to since this morning?_ Rose couldn't help but chuckle at herself and she closed her bag up and went back to sipping on the pumpkin water.

Her friend was back to looking forlorn.

"Do you really have a stomach ache, Albie?" She asked.

Albus, who had been ominously quiet since they had first found their compartment and closed the door spoke now as if his mind hadn't really been quiet at all.

"WELL OF COURSE I DO - you don't!?" He put his hands in the air. "How can you be so... _so calm_ , Rosie?" He ran his fingers through his hair. "This one day, this _one moment_ will decide the next seven years of our lives."

"The sorting, you mean?" Rosie asked, considering.

"YES. I know it might be ridiculous but I can't escape this feeling... I don't know." He shrugged and turned back towards the window. Where he might have been half joking with her before, the way they always were, now he seemed serious.

"Well, you feel pressure of course," Rose observed. "You feel like if, for whatever reason, you don't get sorted into Gryffindor, you will let your father down. That's understandable given the circumstances."

Albus gave her a half-smile in acknowledgement, but still he faced the window as the train zoomed past blurred trees and open fields.

After a moment of silence he answered, "Its more than that, Rosie. Yea, you're right. I'm worried about letting Dad down. But…"

Rosie could feel herself reaching out to him. "What, Albie? You can tell me."

He sighed. "Yea, I'm worried about letting Dad down but it's almost like everyone is anticipating that anyway. Like they already know. Like they've already thought about it and how they would handle it. I can deal with that." Albus shook his head. "I'm nervous about being sorted into Gryffindor too."

His confession didn't quite make sense to Rosie, but she could tell it had stretched him to tell her and she wanted to be considerate of that. Whether or not she and Albus were sorted together, if he was chosen for Gryffindor he would already have his older brother to count on. There wasn't any bad feeling between them as far as she knew and she couldn't really see why sorting into his family's house would cause any other concern. Surely if there was something more, Albus would have told her already. Though Albus was somewhat of a closed book at times, she was as close with him as anyone.

"Why would that make you nervous?" She finally tried.

"Because if I get sorted into Gryffindor, people might actually start expecting something of me."


	3. Toffee Syrup

**Chapter Three : Toffee Syrup (James Sirius Potter)**

* * *

James flourished his wand. Nodding to himself in approval, he rotated it, checking for any changes in the structure. Blackthorn, it was; with hair from a unicorn as its core. The length of the wand was all dark and smooth, but the grip was carved with raised swirls of a lighter color, almost copper. There are those that say a wand of blackthorn was made for warriors; and there were few who could deny that James had the making of a warrior.

A few of his fellow Gryffindors shared the compartment with him. Two of the girls, Alys and Gabby, were chatting excitedly about Hogsmeade. Beside him, a willowy girl James thought might be a Hufflepuff was reading the Daily Prophet. None of them seemed to be paying attention to James' fixation. He did feel one pair of eyes on him, though.

"Are you going to use that thing," Robin Hopkins said, nodding towards the wand in James' hand - "or just stare at it?"

Robin was a third-year, like James, and a Gryffindor. Professors called him Robin, and his friends might call him Rob; but most everyone referred to him as "Puck". He was quick to laughter and an even quicker catch when playing Quidditch. Puck was always able to see the fun side of anything. On top of being the kind of guy you wanted to hang around; he was the perfect person to muster up some mischief with.

After a boring summer, James could use some mischief.

James had spent the past several months cooped up in the house with his family. The Potters had taken a mid-summer vacation at Shell Cottage with most of the extended family to celebrate Teddy's appointment as Head Boy of Hufflepuff, and James had found himself in a bit of a tight spot with Dad after an incident at dinner one night. _Some business about an exploding treacle tart_. James could still hear his father chiding him, "I'm sure Fleur's dessert tasted like gnome droppings," His father began with just the very hint of amusement in his voice "But your Aunt worked very hard on that; and, in any case, it wouldn't hurt you to get on Teddy's good side, considering."

The rest of the trip James was under his father's watchful eye and, even worse, he found himself grounded (and without a broom or bike) when they returned home.

The Potters lived in a quaint, quiet village mainly consisting of muggles. On the upside, each property sat on quite a bit of its own land, which meant more privacy for the magic using families. On the flipside, however, that meant a longer walk if James had the interest in spending time with anyone besides his own siblings this summer. Lily was young and Albus too brooding. His sister was always up for a challenge and could keep up well for her age, but James somehow always fell into the role of Coach or Teacher when he tried to play with Lily. At least she _would_ play, though. James had spent a good portion of the summer trying to engage Albus in a bit of sport, but his brother had developed some sort of aversion to fun.

 _Too worried about things he can't control._ The kid was absolutely _lunar_ these days.

James had tried to prepare him for his first year at Hogwarts, the way only a big brother can, but Albus only acted as if James was inviting him for a seven year stint at Azkaban.

 _If he wants to freak, let him. He'll figure it out soon enough._

Without magic, without a bike, and without much to do at home all summer, James had been much looking forward to going back to school. He needed to practice his wand-work, or risk getting rusty.

James glanced up at Puck through untidy, black hair.

"What did you have in mind?" he asked with a knowing smile.

Puck leaned forward, whispering, as if any of their classmates really cared what the two of them were up to. "I saw a bunch of firsties in the front of the car. And I have a some Glitter Grenades burning a hole in my pocket." Puck raised his eyebrows, egging James on.

Beside him, James thought he heard the Hufflepuff girl scoff, but she didn't say a word to dissuade them.

"A little juvenile, don't you think?" James asked. But still, he laughed and pulled on his house robe.

"No one cares about originality, mate" - Puck winked - "if the execution is brilliant." He clapped James on the back as they slid open the compartment door, looking left and right for any prefects patrolling the car.

Puck turned right, toward the front of the train. James slipped out of the compartment next, keeping his gaze fixed at Puck's back as he followed. They walked down the narrow hallway passing compartments identical to their own: room enough for a few pupils, storage for luggage overhead, and a window displaying the passing countryside. Inside, students were sharing stories of their summers and wondering to each other what this year's welcome feast might bring.

Halfway down the hall, the boys came to a halt as they encountered a Honeyduke's treat trolley on its route.

" 'Scuse me miss," Puck said to the trolley worker as he squirmed around the cart.

James paused and reached into his pocket for his silver, "I'll take a bottle of the toffee syrup, actually."

Puck teetered from his heels to his toes as he waited for James to make his purchase and cross to the other side of the cart, allowing the woman to continue on.

"Good Idea, Jim."

James turned, continuing on behind his friend when Puck came to a sudden stop causing James to run into him.

"Oi, is that your brother Ted snogging your cousin?" Puck pointed toward the compartment nearest to their right.

James peered through the glass window on the door; sure enough, there sat Teddy and Victoire, deaf to the rest of the world, arms locked around each other in a warm embrace. Teddy had one hand in Victoire's long, strawberry blonde hair and one hand around her waist. Teddy's own hair shifted between his natural muddy brown and fire engine red as they kissed.

"God-brother, no relation," said James. "Well…not close, anyway." James shrugged and dismissed it. This explained Teddy's stuffier-than-usual behavior at Shell Cottage this summer. He must have been trying to impress Victoire. _Guess it worked._

"Let's get to the front of the car before you find an aunt to kiss, Potter." Puck put a hand on James' back and pushed him ahead.

The pair slid past several more compartments before Puck glanced around and said, "This one on the left." He pointed just in front of James.

They lowered themselves beneath the compartment window. Inside, James could hear several eleven-year olds chirping away in anticipation of arrival at Hogwarts. From his robes, James withdrew his wand and the toffee syrup.

" _Calidium Viscoso_ ," He whispered, running his wand gently crosswise against the bottom of the bottle. The liquid began to swirl in its container. James took the stopper out. _"Recedio,"_ Using his wand, he began to extract the liquid from the liquid hung in the air as he pulled, swirling the contents overhead. Keeping his wand hand steady and focusing he added, " _Wingardium Leviosa_ ," (it was especially important when conducting a string of spells to make sure the wand movement of each spell flowed into one another). Now the warm toffee liquid whirled in midair, a pool of sweet-smelling ochre.

Puck reached over and opened the compartment door, ever so slightly. Whether or not the first years had taken notice, the boys did not know. Before they could react, James burst through the door, and with a forceful drag and slash of his wand he shouted a bursting charm that splattered the syrup all across the compartment. Toffee flavored goo clung to the window, the ceiling, and the student's fresh first year robes as they tried to cover themselves.

"My HAIR!" One girl shrieked, pulling her hood overhead to no avail.

Puck tossed the glitter grenade onto the floor and, pulling him by the hood, yanked James out the door and slid it shut. They were sprinting towards the back of the car when they grenade burst. They thought they could still hear students screaming; one boy may have been laughing.

The schemers were laughing too, completely satisfied with the outcome of their venture.

"We should get back before Teddy sees us," James told Puck. "He's Head Boy now."

"Even if he comes up for air long enough to investigate, we didn't do anything wrong," Puck said with a shrug of his shoulders. "They'll just be a little shiny for the sorting, is all."

James returned his blackthorn wand to the pocket of his robes. The genius of the toffee syrup is that the glitter would be harder to remove if you didn't want to take some hair with it. He wondered if a head full of glitter would affect the sorting hat's judgement.

 _In any case, having a little style never hurt anyone._


	4. The Sorting

**Chapter Four : The Sorting (Albus Severus Potter)**

* * *

The lake was still as the little boat made its way toward the castle ahead; the stars scattered themselves across the surface of the water. Inside, Albus' heart was pounding in his chest.

"Look, Albie," Rose said, pointing. "That's the Astronomy tower there, in the center. I bet we'd have a lovely view tonight" - she put her hand on his- "and there, that must be the entrance to the Great Hall. You can just see it."

He could tell she was trying to soothe him with her narration. _Or she just can't help herself._

Hogwarts was growing larger as they approached. The ancient castle looked beautiful, glowing from the moonbeams outside and the candlelight within. Towers as tall as mountains jutted from all sides, brushing against the stars. Behind the castle, you could make out the shadow of treetops that marked the edge of the Forbidden Forest, asleep and foreboding.

The boat swayed just slightly as it glided along. He felt queasy. Behind him, two boys were talking about the welcome feast and what they would eat first.

A shadow engulfed them. They were underneath the castle now, covered by a cave-like opening in the cliff face; their boats coming to rest on the shore of the lake. Rose, who was seated near the front of the vessel, got out first in her eagerness. She reached out a hand for Albus to steady himself on as he climbed out. Though they were the same age, Rose had always been somewhat of an elder sister to Albus. She nurtured him.

"Have everything?" said Rose, half to Albus and perhaps half to every other student who might have left something behind. She double checked inside the boat to be safe.

"All righ', first years. Let's get you ter the Great hall an' sort yeh out." The inhumanly tall, grey-bearded man that could only be Hagrid was getting out of his own boat ( _these boats must be supported by magic..._ ) and motioning the students toward a staircase that was nestled in the back corner of the bank.

Rose smiled and grabbed Albus' hand and pulled him forward.

"We've been here five minutes and these two have already paired off."

Albus turned. The two boys who they had shared a boat with were eyeing them. One, the brown haired boy with dark eyes, was elbowing his friend. They laughed as they passed Albus and Rose, climbing the staircase. Albus wasn't sure if they were being made fun of or not.

Though many students, like the boys in front of them, went to the staircase with confidence; there were many who looked just as uncertain as must have.

"Nothin' ter worry 'bout. After the sortin' comes the feast an' a nice warm bed," Hagrid said, seeing the nervous eyes before him. He winked at Albus and Rose as they made their way toward him. "It's been a while, but I still recognize the two of yer," he remarked. "Don't be a stranger, now. Come and see me after yer get settled." He gave them an encouraging wave and motioned them up the stairs. When the last of the students were in suit, he grumbled on up behind them.

"How old do you think the old oaf really is?" The dark haired boy asked his friend.

Rose chimed in from behind them, "Eighty Nine. He's the longest-running keeper of the grounds."

The boys looked back at her briefly as they made their ascent.

"He's half giant, right?" Albus asked Rose through the dark. "Do half-giants live as long as wizards?"

"I don't think there's enough evidence to reach a conclusive answer," she stated. "But Hagrid seems to be quite nimble for his age." They glanced backwards and could just make out Hagrid's enormous silhouette hobbling up the stone steps behind them.

The cacophony of gathered students chattering began to echo down the hall that was opening before them. The chamber above was lit only slightly with lanterns lining the walls.

As the two boys ahead of them reached the top step, they grew suddenly eager and sprinted toward the front, where a thick wooden door barred their path. Rose and Albus followed. When the last of the first years climbed the top of the steps and squeezed into the chamber, Hagrid strode forward and tapped (as lightly as he could with his great fists) onto the door before them.

Immediately in response, the door opened and in squeezed a witch wearing vibrant robes of lilac and gold. She shut the door behind her quickly, but Albus caught a glance of the tremendous gatheingr hall before them. It was warm and bright and dazzling; it was terrifying.

"Hello and Welcome, first years!" said the witch in lilac robes. She was young, with warm brown hair pulled back in a low pony tail beneath her pointed hat and dark lashes that hung over golden eyes, illuminated by the candle light. "Tonight is an extraordinary one"- she circled the room, acknowledging each of the students as she spoke-

"Tonight you will be sorted into your houses, which will serve as your family for the next seven years. You will be called on, one by one, and our dear 'Sorting Hat' will be placed upon your heads. When the Sorting Hat places you, please take a seat with your new family, and the feast will begin!" She smiled, and began to walk back toward the door she had appeared through.

"One more thing," she added, turning her back toward the door and addressing the room. "The Sorting Hat's decision is final." And with that ominous remark, she pushed her weight against the door and it opened inward, light flooding the room as The Great Hall opened up before them.

Students sat, row by row of long, benched tables that ran from the the front of the room all the way to the dais ahead of them. Above, the sky hung, dark everywhere except for the stars speckled across it. Candles floated in the center of the room, flushing the faces of students below. Some turned, hushed, as the first years trickled through the side door; others turned only to each other in commentary.

The Lilac Witch led them forward, smiling, in an opening that divided the rows of students. On their left, the Badger and Lion; on their right, the Eagle and Snake. They began to approach the dais, double file, with Hagrid taking up the rear. Albus could see a haggard old pointed cap that could only be the Sorting Hat sitting solitary on a stool in front of the dais; behind it, on the raised wooden table that lay perpendicular to that of the student's, was his father.

Albus took in a sharp breath.

Harry Potter sat near the center of the Staff Table. Though he had been speaking with the professor next to him a minute before, he now watched attentively as the students approached the front of the room. Their eyes met, and Harry smiled at his youngest son. Albus managed a weak one back.

A tall, stern-looking witch in the center of the table now stood and approached an ornate golden podium in front of her.

"Professor McGonagall," Rose whispered next to him.

 _The Headmistress._

"Good Evening, all," she said, voice projecting across the room. Immediately, the chattering subsided in attention. "I request your full attention for tonight's sorting ceremony." She turned. "Professor Turner, proceed," advised McGonagall.

The witch in lilac robes, who must have been Professor Turner, approached the pedestal before them with bravado. She reached for the hat and when she placed a hand on its top, it burst to life. From a rip in the brim that served as the hat's mouth came a poem like a song:

 _Oh I may not be new and trendy,_

 _But don't judge on what you see,_

 _You'll be hard-pressed to try and find_

 _A smarter hat than me._

 _No matter if your hair is black,_

 _Red or gold or bald,_

 _For I'm the Hogwarts Sorting Hat_

 _Or that is what I'm called._

 _There's nothing hidden in your head_

 _The Sorting Hat can't see,_

 _So try me on and I will tell you_

 _Where you ought to be._

 _You might belong in Gryffindor,_

 _Where dwell the brave at heart,_

 _Their daring, nerve, and chivalry_

 _Set Gryffindors apart;_

 _You might belong in Hufflepuff,_

 _Where they are fierce and able,_

 _Those resilient little Badgers are_

 _Eager, willed, and stable;_

 _Or yet in wise old Ravenclaw,_

 _if you've a ready mind,_

 _Where those of wit and learning,_

 _Will always find their kind;_

 _Or perhaps in sly Slytherin_

 _You'll find a comrade,_

 _Those cunning snakes watch and wait_

 _Striking only when its bad._

 _So try me on! Sit right down!_

 _And I'll finish up this rap-_

 _You're in safe hands (though I have none)_

 _For I'm a Thinking Cap!"_

Students applauded as the hat finished its song; a ripple that could have been a smile formed on its mouth.

With a flourish, Professor Turner drew forth from her robes a scroll and began to read.

"Adams, Ava," she called. There was a small pause; a few of the first years glanced around. "Please come forward, Ava," Professor Turner said kindly.

From behind them, a girl shuffled forward and onto the dais. The top of her head shone in the candlelight; some sparkling substance adorned her blonde hair and the shoulders of her dark robes. From the podium, Professor McGonagall regarded the girl's head coldly. Albus turned again to look behind him. In the back of the aisle he thought he could make out other glittering heads.

 _Is this a sparkle charm? Was I supposed to know?_ Albus worried. Then, he thought he heard a chuckle from the left side of the room and thought, perhaps, Ava wasn't meant to have glitter on her head. He let out a sigh of relief.

Professor Turner glanced back at the Headmistress, who nodded at her. Professor Turner pulled out her wand with her right hand, and muttering sweetly, siphoned off the glitter from Ava's head. Then, with a gentle touch, she smoothed back the girl's hair and whispered something in her ear.

She placed the hat on Ava's head and once again the brim of the hat rippled as it mused. It was only a brief moment before it spoke.

"Hufflepuff!" The hat shouted so all the hall could here. A cheer erupted from the left side of the room and several Hufflepuff's waved Ava over to their seats beneath the gold and black banner of their house as other students clapped.

And so down the list they went. Boys and girls took their turns, one by one, sitting on the stool and trying on the hat. Sometimes the hat took a long pause before announcing its decision; other times the hat need only to touch a head to know where the student belonged. Albus thought the hat always sounded confident in its decision, whatever it may be.

Twice more Professor Turner had to remove glitter from student's hair and robes before placing them under the hat. When one of the boys, Brock Lowry, was sorted into Gryffindor, Albus saw his brother, James, leap up from the table and begin a cheer. When Brock sat near him, James clapped him on the back.

"Malfoy, Scorpius."

One of the boys that had been joking at Albus and Rose's expense moved forward. At his name, several Slytherins clapped.

Rose leaned over, "That's Draco Malfoy's son. Dad doesn't like him much."

Albus looked up at his own father and, sure enough, Harry was regarding the Malfoy boy rather curiously.

Scorpius looked up as Professor Turner lowered the hat onto his resplendent blonde hair. Again, someone from the Slytherin table cheered, and when Scorpius glanced over at them the hat proclaimed in answer, "Slytherin!".

Several members of the Slytherin table stood and greeted Scorpius as he sauntered over to them, smiling. Later, when the dark haired boy Scorpius had known was also sorted into Slytherin, he joined him at the table.

For a while as he watched the proceedings, Albus' nerves were overtaken by sheer interest in the fates of his new classmates. As his name drew nearer though, the knot in his stomach tightened again.

"Potter, Albus."

Was Albus imagining the tension in the air, or had ears perked up at his name? On top of the legacy the Potter name generated from the first two wizarding wars, Albus was also the youngest son of a Hogwarts professor. Surely that fact would not go unnoticed.

Albus looked over at the Gryffindor table; James winked. On the dais, Harry was watching his son attentively.

Rose reached over and gave his hand a squeeze. Albus moved forward.

As he turned to face the room and seat himself on the stool, his heartbeat quickened. Professor Turner said a reassuring word to him, but he didn't hear her. As she lowered the hat onto his head, the brim covered his eyes. He was grateful for the moment of respite from the room of staring faces.

From within the hat (or maybe from within his own head) came a grumbling voice.

 _"Hmmm…"_ it mused. Albus gave a small twitch of his body at the unexpected sound. _"Decent mind, fierce loyalty..."_ the hat trailed off.

 _Gryffindor, like my family, please..._ Albus pleaded.

 _"Like your family? But you have a drive to set yourself apart..."_

This observation gave Albus pause. _Do I?_ Suddenly he couldn't think straight.

 _"Oh yes...and a thirst to prove yourself...no worries, I know where your ambition would be put to good use."_

Albus wrung his hands in his lap.

" _A place apart I could set you in; better be_ _ **SLYTHERIN**_ _!"_


End file.
